Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang (27 page)

“You keep ya head, cuz. It was good seein’ you.”

“No doubt. You bouncin’?”

“Yeah, you know I ain’t got no real love in this room.”

He shakes his head, smilin’. “I can’t believe ya’ll still beefin’ like this. Kat, life is too short, ma. Look at us. We all scattered ’round. This half ain’t fuckin’ wit’ this one. The other half and fuckin’ wit’ the others. Shit’s crazy. We ’posed to be a family.”

I take a deep breath.
Bitch, hurry up ’n get da fuck outta here ’fore he says sumthin’ and you gotta crank it up in here
. “The only ones I eva had beef wit’ is Patrice ’n Juanita. But ya moms ’n ’em had’a make they beef, too, instead’a stayin’ outta it and let us handle it how we were gonna handle it.”

“I hear you, cuz, but you gotta let that shit go. I miss seein’ you ’round when we have family functions ’n shit.”

“Trust me. I’m lettin’ it go,” I say, givin’ ’im anotha hug. “I’m not a part’a this family; neva was, neva will be. And I’m cool wit’ that. I came to pay my respects, but I’m so ova all’a them.”

“Yo, I’m sorry ’bout what popped off wit’ ya moms.”

I shrug. “She brought it on ’erself.”

“That nigga gotta get it, yo.”

“Oh, trust. He will.”

“You gonna take da baby?”

“I’m thinkin’ ’bout it. I’m not sure, yet.”

“I know Abuela was talkin’ to my moms ’bout ’em takin’ da baby and raisin’ it.”

I frown, feelin’ myself ’bout to kick it up a notch. I wanna walk ova to them hoes and snap on ’em. But I don’t. Javier comes ova and gives me a hug. He looks almost like his brotha; a few inches shorter, and stockier. His hair is freshly braided in cornrows that zig-zag and criss-cross.

“I almost didn’t know who you was,” he says, eyein’ me. “Aunt Pat had’a tell me it was you. You lookin’ real good, cuz. Still keepin’ it on ten; fly as ever.”

I smile. “That’s da only way I know how’ta do it. You lookin’ good ya’self.”

He smiles back at me. “Where you been?”

“I’ve been ’round; just keepin’ it real low-key.”

“I feel you. You know some’a us do miss you, Kat.”

I glance ova at Elise, Patrice and my grandmotha, then back at ’im. “I wish I could say da same. This family neva cared ’bout me.”

“That’s not true, cuz,” Arturo says. “I care.”

“No doubt,” Javier adds.

“Well, that’s how I’ve always felt.”

Arturo takes me by the hand. “You need’a come through so we can chill. We fam, Kat. Wit’ my moms and ya moms gone. We all we got, feel me?”

I nod. “I hear you. I’ll think ’bout it.” We spend a few more minutes talkin’ and catchin’ up and exchangin’ phone numbers. I stay up ’til it’s almost time for the funeral to begin, then give ’im both hugs. I dip out, neva lookin’ back.

L
ATER IN THE AFTERNOON
, I’
M SPEEDIN’ DOWN THE
G
ARDEN
State, headin’ southbound to the shore. Outside of drivin’ to Atlantic City to put in gun work, this is the first time a bitch has driven down this way durin’ the day to chill. It’s my first time goin’ to Allstar’s spot. And on some real shit, I’m surprised the nigga actually wanted me to come. And I’m more surprised that a bitch is in ’er whip goin’.

It’s mad nice out. I got the windows down and the beats knockin’. Drake’s “Light Up” is playin’ as I fire up a blunt. By the time I pull up in Alex’s condo development, I’m lit the fuck up, feelin’ mad sexy ’n real ’xtra.

I park my whip, then flip down the visor to make sure shits on point. Hair ’n face still in place.
You’a sexy bitch
, I think, grinnin’ at my reflection. I step out of my car, peepin’ the area. The nigga’s spot is surrounded by all kinda restaurants, boutiques and clubs. I see the ocean ’cross the street and find myself walkin’ ova toward it to get a closer look. Beaches here have neva impressed, or interested me, so why I’m leanin’ on the rail starin’ at the water is beyond me. I take in a deep breath. Hold back my head and enjoy the ocean’s breeze. I have a lotta shit on my mind. A bitch needs change. But I don’t know if a baby is what’s gonna get it. And I don’t know if this nigga is the kinda change I need, or want, eitha. I can’t front. He’s been on my mind heavy. The last couple’a weeks we been kickin’ it almost e’ery damn day. And a lotta the time we ain’t even fuckin’. He be on some “let me hold you”-type shit. And I be wit’ it. I don’t know what’s really good wit’ this nigga, and I ain’t really tryna spend too much time tryna figure it out. I already know what it is for me. I’ma keep it real cute, and keep doin’ the nigga ’til he fucks up, then its bubble-wrap for his ass. Still, a bitch gotta wonder if I’m gettin’ in too deep wit’ his ass.

My cell rings, disruptin’ my moment. I pull it outta my bag. It’s
NUT
.
It’s time to change up his nickname.
I decide to start change it to Allstar. “Hey,” I say, turnin’ to head toward his place.

“Where you at, yo? I thought you woulda been here by now.”

“I’m outside,” I tell ’im crossin’ the street, “on my way up to ya buildin’.” I peep this salon-tanned white muhfucka gettin’ out’a black Maserati and anotha steppin’ outta a Bentley, headin’ to the Gold’s Gym on the corner. I see a slew of otha high-end whips in parkin’ spaces as well, grinnin’.
These muhfuckas out here gotta be paid out da ass, pushin’ them big boyz.

“Cool-cool. You aiight?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” I tell ’im I’m impressed wit’ his neighborhood. That it reminds me of a quaint village filled wit’ a bunch’a rich muhfuckas.

He laughs. “That’s ’cause it is.”

When I get up to the eleventh floor, he’s already standin’ in the hallway waitin’ on me. He’s grinnin’ from ear to ear. And I can’t help but to smile back at ’im. He’s in a pair of dark-blue True Religions and a wife beater, showin’ off his chiseled arms and lookin’ sexy as fuck. I swear I don’t wanna catch feelin’s for this nigga, but e’erytime I’m ’round ’im it gets harder and harder to keep that from happenin’.

He pulls me into his arms the minute I walk up on ’im. He kisses me wit’ them sexy-ass lips and my pussy starts juicin’. “Damn, you lookin’ good,” he says, shuttin’ the door behind me. I step outta my heels. “Let me show you ’round.”

I glance ’round his spot, impressed. The nigga’s shit is piped in buttery-soft Italian leather. My feet sink into the plush carpet. I peep the fifty-two-inch Sony Bravia flat-screen up on the wall wit’ its surround sound. His spot is nicely decorated in all earth tone colors. I shake my head at all’a his man toys: the Xbox, PS3,
and Wii games and tons of games for each. I follow ’im into the master bedroom. He has a huge mahogany king-size sleigh bed, and matchin’ nightstands. There’s an oil paintin’ of a naked woman’s profile wit’ a big juicy ass and titties hangin’ on the wall ova his bed.

“Nice. I’m really impressed,” I tell ’im, walkin’ back out into the livin’ room. He shows me the kitchen, which is piped out wit’ granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.

He laughs. “What, you thought I was livin’ foul or sumthin’?”

“Truthfully, I didn’t know what to think. So is this ya crib or some chick’s you done scammed?”

He frowns. “Nah, ma. I ain’t scam shit. E’erything up in this muhfucka is all me. Yeah, I been gifted up ’n shit, but don’t get it fucked up. I ain’t no bum-ass nigga, baby.”

I smirk. “That’s good to know.”

“That ain’t all you ’bout to know,’ he says, scoopin’ me up into his big arms.

“Oh yeah; what else am I gonna know?”

He licks his lips and eyes me all sexy-like, then slips his tongue in my mouth. His hands land on my ass, then squeeze it. He grinds himself into me. “Take them clothes off and let me show.”

T
WO HOURS LATER, WE’RE IN THE LIVIN’ ROOM LOUNGIN’ ON THE
sofa. Alex’s lyin’ ’cross my lap, sparkin’ a blunt. He’s in his boxer briefs, bare-chested. And I’m wearin’ one’a his button ups wit’ nuthin’ else underneath. The nigga slayed my pussy like no otha, but I ain’t gonna play myself short eitha—a bitch fucked the nigga down, lovely. Had ’im moanin’ like a bitch e’ery time I lifted up on his dick and rode the head, milkin’ that shit wit’ my pussy muscles.

“Yo, you really got a nigga goin’ through it, Kat,” he says, takin’ two puffs on the blunt, then handin’ it to me. “Real talk; I’m really feelin’ you, ma. You know that, right?”

I hold the blunt wit’ one hand and rub his head wit’ the otha, lettin’ my fingas move ova the pattern of his waves. I nod, blowin’ smoke outta the side of my lips. “That’s what ya mouth says.”

He looks up at me. “Yo, that’s what it is.” I hand ’im back the blunt. “I ain’t tryna get all fucked up in this shit, yo.”

I lay my head back on the sofa, thinkin’ ’bout Juanita and all the otha bitches who lost their damn minds and souls to a nigga. Bitches who couldn’t think straight wit’out a nigga in they lives. I don’t care how good the nigga’s dick and tongue game is, I can’t eva let that shit happen to me. “Me either,” I say, shakin’ the shit outta my head.
’Cause muhfucka it ain’t gonna pretty if I do.

He lifts up off’a me, takin’ anotha pull from the blunt. He hands it to me, but I tell ’im I’m good. For the last few days a bitch ain’t really been beat to burn it up like normal. Shit, I ain’t even really tossin’ back the drinks like I used to eitha.

He looks at me. “I’m a hunnid wit’ you ’cross the board. No games.”

“Okay. And I’m real wit’ you.”

“Aiight, then we cool. Don’t play me, Kat.”

“Nigga, don’t
you
play me.”

He leans ova and tries to kiss me. I yank my head back. “Oh what, now I can’t get no lips?”

“Nope,” I say, smirkin’.

“Yeah right.” He hovers ova me, presses me back on the sofa. “Stop, playin’, girl, give me some’a that tongue.”

I stick my tongue out, then pull it back into my mouth. “You want it, nigga. You gotta take it.” He pulls me into him, kisses my lips. I press my lips tight to keep ’im from slippin’ his tongue in. “You gonna have’ta come betta than that.”

“Oh, aiight. I see how you doin’ it. I got you.” He starts nibblin’ on my neck, unbuttons the buttons on the shirt I’m wearin’, then takes my left nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirls ’round it while he reaches ova and lightly pinches my right nipple. I fight to keep myself from moanin’.
Oh, gaawd, this muhfucka is gonna have’a bitch all fucked up,
I think, closin’ my eyes.
Keep it cute, ho
. He looks up at me. “Can I get some’a that tongue, ma?”

I grunt. Moan. Shake my head from side to side. “No.”

He starts kissin’ down the middle of my chest to my stomach, then dips his tongue into my belly button. Wit’out thinkin’, a bitch spreads open ’er legs anticipatin’ the next spot his tongue makes. The nigga got me in heat. Got my pussy lips stickin’. He grabs me by the waist, pulls my legs up ova his shoulders, then wraps his arms ’round the back of me and lifts me up, standin’ up. He lifts my hips up in the air and begins suckin’ ’n lickin’ on my clit. “Oooooooh…aaaaaaah…”
Ohhhhmiiigaawd, this nigga’s tongue is deadly.
I grab the back of his head, fuck his face. “Ohhhhh, yes, muhfucka…make my pussy skeet, nigga…” I let go of his head and lay backward, lettin’ the nigga have his way wit’ my pussy. His dick stabs me in my back. I twist my body so I can get at it, then start strokin’ it ova his boxers. I’m not sure how or when, ’cause the muhfucka has a bitch in a zone, but the next thing I know the nigga turns me around wit’ his mouth still mounted on my kat-box and I’m face-to-face wit’ his dick. He alternates from lickin’ my asshole to the back of my pussy. I pull his boxers down ova his waist, takin’ his dick in my hands. I lick the precum leakin’ from its tip, then start suckin’ on it—slow and sexy at first, then fast and nasty. I take my hands off the dick, grab the back of his thighs and give the nigga all throat and neck action. He’s moanin’. I’m moanin’. Then, a few minutes later, we are both nuttin’, gulpin’ and slurpin’ each otha’s nut.

The nigga lets me down, then collapses back onto the sofa.
“Fuck,” he says, lickin’ the rest of my cream from ’round his lips. “You da truth, baby—word up.” I grin, lickin’ my lips as well. I drop down in front of ’im and finish milkin’ the rest of his nut out.

When I’m done, I climb up on top of ’im and look ’im in the eyes. “Now you can have some tongue,” I tell ’im, slippin’ it deep into his mouth. Our tongues twirl and flick up against the othas. We kiss and stare into each otha’s eyes. I’m feedin’ the nigga a taste of his nut and he’s feedin’ me a taste of mine. I grind down on his dick, let my pussy coat it wit’ juice. And, for the first time in a long time, I wanna feel this nigga bust his dick up in me raw.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Where there is life…there is death…pullin’ in da final breath…one life traded for anotha…mixed emotions slicin’a bitch like a knife…da birth of a tiny lil’ brotha…gotta ho rethinkin’ some things…should a bitch play ’er position…be his sista, or play his motha?…

T
hree weeks later, on Saturday, June 26, 2010 at 6:36 p.m., after bein’ pumped up wit’ a buncha steroids to help the baby inside’a ’er lungs develop, the plug is finally pulled on my mother. And the truth is, I feel nuthin’; just like I knew I would. Watchin’ ’er life support machine bein’ shut off is like liftin’ a switch and turnin’ on bright lights to a dark, lonely past.

I am in the labor ’n delivery room, relieved that this is my last time lookin’ at ’er. I’ve been comin’ back ’n forth up to this hospital practically e’ery damn night, starin’ at Juanita. Cursin’ ’er out, sayin’ a buncha shit I kept bottled up for what I knew would be the last time, knowin’ she couldn’t hear shit I had’a say. But, I realize she didn’t need to. I needed it for me. And like I’ve said, there will be no tears, not ova ’er. And a bitch ain’t livin’ wit’ no regrets.

Patrice, Elise ’n my grandmother are here—lookin’ through the
glass window, bawlin’ they eyes out. This is the first time I’m ’round all’a these hoes and we ain’t goin’ at it. Still, the tension is thick as shit, but we keep the drama at bay—
for now
.

I keep my back to them bitches. We are all consumed wit’ tears. Theirs are for the loss of another daughter ’n sister. Mine for seein’ this tiny lil’ baby brought into this world by C-section, then laid on my mother’s shoulder for a brief moment. Neither aware of the otha’s presence. Then havin’ the doctor hand the baby to
me
. I am nervous at first, takin’ it. It is the first time I’ve held a baby—a tiny life; a baby boy brought into this world at twenty-six weeks, weighing’ only 3 lbs. 8 oz. A bitch bursts into tears, so fuckin’ distraught knowin’ I woulda killed ’im.